The Twilight 25: The Sideshow
by justaskalice
Summary: A series of oneshots and drabbles written for Round 2 of the Twilight 25 about the 7 original Cullens... no Bella here. Mostly canon, with a possible dash of AU. See chapters for rating info.
1. Worry

**The Twilight 25**

**Prompt: Worry**

**Pen name: justaskalice  
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**Category: Canon**

**Pairing: Rosalie/Emmett**

**Rating: T**

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Instinct made her save him. Although he was a grown man, his pain made him like a child. When she scooped him up and sprinted toward home, he made a strained, keening sound. The gashes in his side wept blood, but for once she was able to completely rise above her cravings.

The very trait Edward so snidely mocked her about would save this man. Single-mindedness.

Now he was burning, venom surging through his veins, sealing them off and healing his wounds. His heart beat strongly, but it was only a matter of time.

She held his hand and waited.

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**A/N: I've decided to tackle the Twilight 25 as a series of oneshots and drabbles. I won't be venturing into AH with these posts at all, mostly canon with some possible ventures into AU. My responses will center around the original 7 Cullens, which means no Bella. I'm looking forward to it, and it'll be something really different for me. I hope you enjoy!  
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	2. Patience

**The Twilight 25**

**Prompt: Patience**

**Pen name: justaskalice**

**Category: Canon**

**Character: Alice**

**Rating: K+**

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She has been alone for as long as she can remember, not that the notion of memory means anything to her. She has no memories from the time before the burn. She cannot recall a time when she was not surrounded by trees and bird calls.

She is blank.

The visions take her by surprise at first, but after a day or so she will slide in and out of them with ease, barely even startled when one washes over her.

The man in the first vision is tall and fair. His eyes are a dark shade of red. His face is twisted into a deep frown and his skin is marked with scars, too many to count. His eyes flash and it's almost like she can see into his soul. She knows him, and she knows that she should be frightened. He's feral; a killer. Despite that knowledge, all she wants to do is get closer to him. Then the vision shifts, and his eyes turn a light, tawny gold. His scarred face breaks out into a joyous smile, and he is joined by a tiny woman with feathery black hair. They laugh and embrace, and he spins her around. Her feet fly out into the air as they dance, but he doesn't drop her. Somehow she knows he would never drop this woman.

Then she blinks, and the two fade into nothingness. The forest appears in front of her again. Time has passed; through the leaves she can see that the sun has moved marginally across the sky. She wonders briefly how she knows about such things.

The next second she's distracted by a flash of fire down her throat. The burn reminds her of the last thing she remembers, twisting and screaming and flailing out against the pain. She knows there is an appropriate response to the fire, but she can't grasp what that might be. She struggles with it for a moment, shuffling through nonexistent memories. It's no use. She simply doesn't know.

And then her eyes slide back and she's lost in another vision. This time she sees two men standing in a patch of trees. They're talking, but she can't quite make out their voices. She focuses on the details: how the blond man makes small, defined gestures and how the taller man with the shock of reddish brown hair seems to always be in motion, full of nervous energy. The blond man reaches out and grabs the tall man's arm, stopping his constant twitching. He shakes his head firmly and then speaks, his lips moving slowly and deliberately. The tall man relaxes slightly, though his eyes continue to dart about.

Suddenly, there is a shift in the wind. Her eyes, if that's what she's seeing with, recognize the way the needles on the pine tree near the blond man ripple and sway. The two freeze for an instant, and then they're off. The vision follows them, keeping its laser sharp focus. The men encounter a herd of deer, and they attack before the animals can scatter completely. The blond latches onto the throat of a large buck, tackling it to the ground. The other man grabs a doe nearby. He bites through the hide near the doe's shoulder and blood drips down his chin.

She blinks and the men are gone. The burn returns, stronger this time. Flames claw their way up her throat, and she shudders at its renewed force. She knows what she has to do now, because the vision has shown her.

The burn starts to diminish with her first kill, and while it doesn't disappear she is able to get comfortable again by gorging herself. It surprises her how easy it is to tackle such large animals and bite through skin and hair and sinew. It's thrilling and terrifying all at once. Her mind recognizes the way her prey seems much larger than her and the impossibilities of her speed and strength. She banishes the questions with a quick shake of her head. The fire is the most important thing. Stop the burning. Plenty of time for answers after that.

An hour and six kills later, she is resting in a small clearing by a stream. She can feel where blood has coated her lips and chin. It's dried and crusty; not uncomfortable, but she doesn't exactly care for the sensation.

She leans over the stream, and sunlight breaks through the clouds above. The face of a woman is reflected there: the same woman from her first vision. She smiles and the woman smiles back. She stretches out her hand, and the sun catches on her skin. It glitters, and words flicker through her mind. Diamonds, glass, rhinestones. She stares, fascinated.

Something about the glitter triggers another vision. Before she can fully register the sensation, she's falling forward into it. The fair-haired man from her first vision is there again, this time dressed in an elegant coat and tails. He extends a hand just out of range of her sight, and when he pulls it back she is there again. The woman she now recognizes as herself dances into view.

She's wearing a ball gown, and it's exquisite. The satin bodice shines under some unknown light, and the full skirt swishes, revealing matching satin slippers. Sparkling stones glisten at her throat and on her ears, and she can see a blue gem on her left hand.

The man smiles down at her and says something. She can almost hear his voice, but he stops talking before she can focus enough. His lips curve into a devastating smile and he dips her back, pressing closer. When she straightens up, he lowers his face to hers and kisses her passionately. She responds hungrily, reaching into his tousled gold hair and gripping fiercely. His hand caresses her bare shoulder, then her back. His fingers creep toward where the dress is fastened, but before anything else happens her vision clears and she's staring at her own face in the clear water again.

The sudden shift pulls her attention to the differences between her vision-self and the one she sees in the water below. Besides the blood that's caked on her chin, her hair is matted and sticks to her head. There is a dirt smudge on her forehead. And then there's her clothing. She's wearing some sort of short-sleeved shift. The fabric is a loose weave, and it feels rough against her skin. It is dirty and torn. Clumps of dirt and leaves cling to the hem, and droplets of blood have stained her collar. She frowns, thinking she prefers the ball gown.

Night is falling now. The sun drops behind the clouds, and the sky is painted in dark purples and blues. The wind picks up, howling through the trees. She can feel it on her skin, but she doesn't feel the chill. Nevertheless, it seems wrong to sit exposed.

She takes off through the trees, running quickly and soundlessly. She is barefoot, but the forest floor doesn't hurt her feet. Quite the contrary, running is fantastic. She sprints full out, not heading anywhere in particular and enjoying pushing her body as hard as she can. A host of new sensations attack her limbs, all of them pleasurable. As she dodges through the trees, branches whip against her arms and legs. It tickles, and she laughs out loud. She stops suddenly at the sound of her voice. She smiles and laughs again, reveling in the way her voice seems to tinkle like bells into the silence of the forest.

She sees a stand of pines grouped tightly enough to block the wind, so she rolls under the branches and pulls her knees into her chest. The wind moans and ruffles her hair, and she watches with fascination as leaves dance by her hiding place.

And just like that she's slipping into another vision. This time she's standing in a room with pale wood floors and white walls, and she is surrounded by people she now recognizes. The blond man is there, although his tall friend is not. She is holding the hand of her golden headed dance partner. Three others have joined them, two women and another man. Her vision-self looks radiantly happy, and she speaks, her mouth moving rapidly.

Without conscious effort on her part, the vision sharpens and narrows, and for the first time she hears sound associated with the vision. Music is issuing from a record player in the corner. Her vision-self has finished speaking and is looking expectantly at the blond man.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Alice," he says, looking at her and smiling. "And Jasper," he addresses her partner. "We don't often meet others of our kind who practice our... special diet."

The vision loosens and fades quickly then, and, as if exhausted by the effort, she feels her body slouch forward. She rests her forehead on her arms and thinks about what she has just seen. She has a name.

Alice.

Is it really her name, or is it the one she has given herself? Is the vision a memory, or simply some far-off dream? Has she met these people, or will she on some future date? She doesn't know. But she's willing to wait, and watch, and learn.

"I'm Alice," she whispers. They are the first words she has ever spoken, but no one hears them. That will have to wait.

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**A/N: Thanks to daisy3853 for putting her meanpants on for this one. **


	3. Apathy

**The Twilight 25**

**Prompt: Apathy**

**Pen name: justaskalice**

**Character: Jasper**

**Category: Canon**

**Rating: T**

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Every city added to the roster of the faceless dead. He killed because he had to, not because there was any pleasure in it.

It was always the same: each death overwhelmed him with a fresh wave of panic and terror. It never went away, in fact, it only seemed to intensify with time.

He left Peter and Charlotte behind just outside of Chicago. Their joy was too at odds with his feelings of complete hopelessness. The duality was too much. He longed to feel the satisfaction of his own emptiness.

He doubted Philadelphia would be different. It never was.


	4. Red

**The Twilight 25**

**Prompt: Red**

**Pen name: justaskalice**

**Character: Edward**

**Category: Canon**

**Rating: T**

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"But why?" I asked again. Not that it mattered. His answer was always the same, and it made me sound like a whiny teenager every time I asked. In a way I suppose I was... testing my boundaries, challenging authority. And every time I asked, I probed his mind.

His patience never faltered, nor did his absolute belief in his answer.

"Because, Edward, human life is sacred." Carlisle's golden eyes searched my face, looking for hints of distaste. I kept my expression impassive. "We don't have to be murderers."

"But is it murder? They're our natural food source," I argued. "Is it murder when a lion kills a gazelle? Or when a wolf hunts down a deer?"

"It's different," he said calmly, "because we have a choice. You are not a beast of the forest. You have a mind, intelligence, logic. And a conscience."

With that parting shot, he darted off into the trees, following the faint scent of a black bear. I sighed and thought about heading back to the house on the edge of the wood. But Esme was there, anxiously cleaning the spotless counter tops, and all that nervous energy didn't appeal to me in my current state of mind. I knew that's what she was doing because that's what she always did when we left her home alone. We didn't do it often—Carlisle couldn't bear to be parted from his blushing bride—but whenever we did Esme could be counted on to scour the house from top to bottom, no matter how short a time we were gone. I knew she tried to keep herself busy because she was afraid a human would arrive at the house while we were out and she would slip. As I had plucked that fear from her head in a moment of weakness, however, I kept my knowledge to myself.

I sprinted through the red pine, locking onto Carlisle's familiar scent as I ran. He was finishing his bear by the time I reached him. He dropped the carcass and looked back at me, his eyes already their lightest shade of honey.

_Are you ready to go back?_

We'd be out for an hour, and I'd drained two disgusting elk and one mildly less disgusting grey wolf. My thirst was quenched enough that school wouldn't be a problem on Monday, and I supposed in the end that was the best I could do. Enjoying my meal was clearly out of the question.

I shrugged and followed him as he turned and ran toward Esme and the house. A hint of uneasiness still lingered in his thoughts about our earlier diet discussion, but mostly he was focused on getting back to Esme. His thoughts turned slightly more... amorous in nature, and so I called up the pages of a book I had read recently, _The Great Gatsby_, and attempted to narrow my focus. Blocking individual thoughts was almost effortless now, although large crowds still drove me mad with the noise and confusion. Carlisle assured me that over time I would learn to control my "gift", but as he had no such talent of his own I was skeptical.

My relationship with Carlisle was often laced with skepticism; I couldn't help it. He was hundreds of years older than me, and yet it often seemed to me that I understood more about vampiric nature than he did. He persisted in acting human, thinking human, even _eating_ human, with his inane comparisons to venison. I would have gone off on my own almost immediately except that, for all his weaknesses and quirks, he was a genuinely good man through and through. He didn't lie, and he believed in everything he said. Esme hadn't had any real doubts, not since she got over her anger at her failed suicide. There was never any question that she would follow Carlisle's "vegetarian" lifestyle, especially now that they were married.

Human nature was a funny thing. I had only been a vampire for eight years, but already I felt as if my human thought processes were a thing of the distant past. I couldn't identify with the boys at my school. Their thoughts revolved around girls and athletics and ...girls. The people in town were just as baffling, and sometimes disgusting or disturbing. I couldn't remember having those thoughts. Vague recollections of wartime ambitions swirled in my memories, but the burning desires, the need to prove myself to my peers... that was beyond me. Jay Gatsby and Tom Buchanan, with their endless love affairs and misguided conflicts, were a perfect example of what confused me about humanity. Most confusing of all, perhaps, was Gatsby's melodramatic suicide after Daisy's rejection. What could he have been thinking?

I circled around the front of the house while Carlisle went inside. Esme's relieved thoughts filtered through to me, and I caught a brief glimpse of him walking through the front door through her eyes. He crossed the room almost instantly, and before he could sweep her into his arms I pulled out of her head and took off toward the bay. While I could probably block their thoughts with my little tricks, nothing was going to block their sounds. It was best to get as far away as I could from our little hideaway in the woods.

I scaled a pine near the bay and thought back to Carlisle's words. We had to feed on animals, he said, because of our consciences. In principal, I suppose I agreed. Average people going about their average lives didn't deserve to meet their end in a clash of teeth and venom.

But what about those people who lived their lives on the fringes? The men who stalked the night, who killed, raped, and maimed. Women who beat their children, or simply killed them through slow, purposeful neglect. I had encountered such humans in Chicago, and to a much lesser extent in Ashland. For the most part, they looked exactly like everybody else, and many of them got away with their crimes. Human police work was fallible. Innocent people got locked away and the guilty never got punished for their crimes.

But I...I was infallible. I could see inside their heads, delve into their deepest secrets with ease. I would be able to cull the guilty from the innocent faster and more efficiently than even the best human detective could ever hope to. A glimmer of an idea began to form, beautiful in its simplicity. A way to get what I wanted while keeping my conscience clear.

Carlisle wouldn't see it that way, I was sure. He would try to convince me that I was wrong, that there were flaws in my perfect plan. He wouldn't be interested in joining me. But that didn't mean I couldn't go off on my own.

The more I thought about it, the more the idea appealed to me. Carlisle and Esme were nesting, awash with the bliss of new love. We hadn't had any long talks about it, but from what I gleaned from Carlisle's thoughts, vampires mated for life to their perfect match. There was no love but the first one, and the bond only strengthened with time. It was enough to keep him occupied.

The thought made me flinch. Until he changed Esme, I had been the only family Carlisle had had since he became a vampire more than 300 years ago. It was natural that he was fond of me, especially since we were connected in such a fundamental way. I looked up to him. Even when I couldn't quite swallow the lesson he was teaching, I respected him. How could I not? His venom ran through my veins, and he was responsible for helping to mold the man I now considered myself to be. In many ways, he had been more of a father to me in the last eight years than my human father had ever been. But now he had Esme. They would miss me, but I knew they didn't need me. They had each other. Three, as they say, is a crowd.

I reached out briefly with my mind to confirm I was alone before leaping from the top of the tree. I reveled in the wind rushing past me in the seconds before I hit the ground, then sprinted for the water. Speed, in any form, was the one wholly good thing about my life. There was nothing but pure exhilaration in running, jumping, falling. Sometimes I ran so fast I thought I could fly.

Tonight, though, it was only a short dash to the shore. I stopped there and looked down at my reflection in the water. My eyes were bright gold from my hunt, and the moon reflected off the water and made my chalk white skin glimmer faintly. It was at times like these when I wondered how any human believed the ruse. We weren't like them. It was obvious.

I examined my eyes more closely, imagining they were a dark ruby red. I would look every inch the monster then. There would be no school, no walking around in the daytime masquerading as one of them. In a way, it would be freeing. I wouldn't have to hide behind the carefully cultivated human façade. I would become a killer. A vigilante, but a killer nonetheless. And that fact would be broadcast loud and clear through my eyes... the windows to my soul.

I scowled a little at the thought. Despite Carlisle's claims, I was sure I didn't have one. You had to be human to have a soul; I remembered that much from the catechism. If that wasn't enough, I was fairly certain being one of the immortal undead disqualified me from any chance I had at salvation. Maybe a crucifix couldn't hurt me, but no priest alive would endorse Carlisle's "even vampires can go to heaven" theory.

I meandered through the trees on my way home, taking my time and making just enough noise to give them warning that I was returning. I moved quickly through the living room, barely glancing at the sofa where they lay entwined, fully clothed. As I shut the door to my bedroom, I heard the sharp edge of mutual concerned thoughts.

_He looks different._

Maybe I was different. I knew one way to find out.

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**A/N: This oneshot takes place sometime in 1926, the year before Edward leaves Esme and Carlisle for his rebellious period. Thanks to daisy3853, who prereads and makes me better.**


	5. Restraint

**The Twilight 25**

**Prompt: Restraint**

**Pen name: justaskalice**

**Pairing: Emmett/Rosalie**

**Category: Canon**

**Rating: K+**

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He had always been a beast of a man: taller than all his brothers and the strongest by far. His father used to tell visitors that he was part man, part bear. Ironic, really.

Carlisle said it was an adjustment. But he had crushed five doorknobs and stepped through the living room floor, not to mention the unfortunate incident with one of Esme's antique dining room chairs.

In quiet moments, though, he found the strength to be gentle. His hand, soft as a butterfly's wing, would reach out to softly brush away a blond curl. Her smile made it easy.

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**A/N: Daisy3853 talked me down off the ledge. Thanks honey. :) **


	6. Dark

**The Twilight 25**

**Prompt: Dark**

**Pen name: justaskalice**

**Category: Canon  
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**Character: Esme**

**Rating: K+**

The hardest time was night.

In her old life, she could turn off the lights and curl under her covers. The darkness would be so thick that it practically swallowed her. Other people were afraid of the dark, but not Esme. The darkness sheltered her, making her feel like she could disappear.

Nothing was dark anymore. Even in a closed room at midnight, curtains drawn tight, a sort of grey light made her surroundings clearly visible. It was disturbing, like a different world had always existed, just beneath the surface of the one she knew before.

She missed the dark.

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**A/N: As always, big ups to Daisy3853 who holds my hand and tells me I'm being irrational. **


	7. Prelude

**The Twilight 25**

**Prompt: Prelude**

**Pen name: justaskalice  
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**Category: Canon**

**Pairing: Edward**

**Rating: K+**

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The small upright piano mocked me. I longed to plunk out the Irish folk song my father whistled every morning or my mother's favorite waltz.

The first time I touched a delicate white key, it cracked. Dissonance.

Carlisle wasn't angry, but I was. My only tangible connection to my dead past was out of my reach. I set my fist down a little too hard and smashed the cover.

I lacked control. I kept breaking keys. Stubbornly, I practiced.

Then one day, I played _Claire de Lune_ without breaking anything at all. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

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**A/N: Thanks to daisy3853 for the pre-read.**


	8. Alone

**The Twilight 25**

**Prompt: Alone**

**Pen name: justaskalice**

**Category: Canon**

**Pairing: Esme/Carlisle**

**Rating: T  
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_If any man destroyeth the temple of God, him shall God destroy; for the temple of God is holy, and such are ye._

I closed my eyes and let the words sink in, even as the wind whipped my hair around my face. Eternal damnation. In its simplest interpretation, Hell is merely the absence of God. No fire and brimstone, no devils or pitchforks. It is the absence of Love, just blackness and empty space, forever separated from the One who gives solace and peace.

But I had been living without love for quite some time, and I wasn't afraid. I thought I knew what it meant to be alone, but with the death of my son, his light snuffed out after only three days, the idea gained new meaning. The reverend who baptized him just hours after his birth had given me a solemn benediction, telling me that the Lord would be with me in my hour of need. Despite his reassurances, I felt no Divine Presence, and no touch of Grace. Alone.

For a second, I hesitated, opening my eyes to look at the surf crashing against the rocks below. I lifted my chin, gazing out at the horizon and taking in the sunset for the last time.

"Goodbye," I said to no one. Then I spread my arms and leapt.

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It was dark in Hell, just as I suspected. It felt good to know that I was right about something. Unfortunately, I was wrong about the fire.

I screamed, suddenly finding that I still had a voice. I deduced that I must still have a body as well from the way the flames licked at my arms and legs. The fire consumed my heart and my belly. I howled and thrashed, trying to twist away from the heat, but nothing I did helped. Then, quite suddenly, I couldn't move at all.

The fire raged on.

I thought I was imagining things when the fire retreated, ever so slightly, from my hands and feet. It was around that time when I realized that there was someone else in my Hell. A demon, perhaps? I could hear him breathing, and I was aware of pressure on my arms, holding me down.

The demon spoke. His voice was silk and chocolate, a warm quilt on a cold winter night, sunshine and flowers.

"Shhhhhhh. It's almost over, I promise. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Hold on, Esme."

It didn't surprise me that this demon knew my name, or that he was offering me false words of comfort. He would want to foster hope, so that when the torture didn't end it was that much more painful. Almost as soon as I had the thought, the fire got impossibly hotter. I whimpered and twisted against the demon's iron grip.

"That won't help," he said gently. "But the fire will stop. It's already been more than two full days. Edward's change took just over three. I hope you can hear me. I'm so sorry."

Despite the newly intensified fire, I found I was able to think around the pain as my mind filled with questions. What did he mean by change? And who was Edward? Was time still really measured in days here in Hell? And why was it still so dark?

A new voice piped up then, a bit rougher on the edges than the first demon, but still undeniably beautiful.

"You're not in Hell. Not the one you're thinking of anyway."

"Edward," the first voice said in a warning tone.

"You don't think she deserves to know?" Edward asked. "You made the choice, but she's got to live with it. If you can call this _living_."

Fear bubbled up in my chest, coupling with the burning and surging quickly into panic. I kicked and punched, and even the demon's strong grip loosened a little as I flailed.

"Esme, you need to calm down. I know you're frightened, but I'll explain everything. The fire will go away, but you're getting stronger, and we won't be able to restrain you soon."

Would I really be stronger than a demon?

"He's not a demon," Edward said.

"What?" the first voice said.

"She thinks she's being held by a demon," Edward explained impatiently. "In the fires of Hell. Really, Carlisle, what did you expect? She was trying to commit suicide. Did you think she'd automatically realize you'd changed her into a vampire?"

The demon—man? _Vampire?_—named Carlisle made a miserable little groan and pressed down on my arms again. The fire pushed up my arms and legs, leaving them blissfully cool while scorching my torso in new, impossible ways.

"Leave us," Carlisle said sharply.

"I don't think that's wise, do you? She'll be waking up soon. You can't handle a newborn alone."

"So wait outside."

"I'll be able to hear you anyway."

"Then stay and be silent!" Carlisle's voice was raised for the first time, and it took on an authoritarian edge. "I won't have you upsetting her or scaring her."

Silence.

My chest tightened and the fire flared again. I screamed in agony and the pressure shifted to my hand.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Carlisle murmured. "The venom is burning up your blood. It's heading toward your heart. This is the worst part. But it's almost over."

I clung to his words now, although I knew it was foolish to hope.

"Help me," I croaked. My voice sounded different, smoother somehow, despite being scorched. I felt my heart speed up in my chest, pounding like I had just run a race. Faster and faster it sped, meeting the blistering heat head on.

"Whatever you need, forever," he said. His voice was reverent. Sincere. It burrowed down deep, to a place in my heart I had thought destroyed long ago. Then the fire was in my heart, and all I could do was wail as my heart sped impossibly on. I almost couldn't distinguish the individual beats anymore.

And then... it stopped.

The pain—gone.

The fire—conspicuously absent.

But the pressure was still on my hand, and I finally realized that it was dark because my eyes were clenched tightly shut. Slowly, I opened them.

A young man leaned over me, his eyes wide, worried, and golden. "Esme?" he said softly.

I blinked and looked around, stunned by what I was seeing. Everything looked sharper, clearer, brighter somehow. I fixed my stare on the man above me. He was smiling hesitantly.

"It's alright, Esme. You're safe. And you'll never be alone again."

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**A/N: Thank you to Daisy3853 for reading this over before I posted. And thank you too all of you for reading :)**


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